Absolution
by deenerann
Summary: Follows a year after the events at the bus stop. Told from the Priest's POV.


Absolution

It's been one year since I've seen her.

Twelve months and twelve hours since I spent the best night of my life with her.

Twelve months and six hours since I broke her heart like an arsehole by saying goodbye after she told me she loved me.

Oh, who am I kidding? I fucking broke my own heart, too.

It was for the best, though. I remind myself of that every day. This is my calling. What I do here matters. My whole life culminated to the point of joining the priesthood and making a difference in people's lives. It _matters_. I'm supposed to do this.

So, why do I keep having to remind myself of that? It shouldn't be so hard to move on, especially after all this time. I shouldn't still miss her so much. I made the right decision, so why does it feel like God abandoned me when I chose him over her? I haven't felt close to Him at all. I felt closer to Him when she was in my life.

To make matters worse, the fucking foxes have been more active lately—absolutely tormenting me. Ever since I left her at that bus stop, so beautiful and sad in that red dress, it's like they followed me home and took up residence in the priory garden. I can't even go out back to drink my G&T anymore. They're always out there—watching. Waiting. I think they're planning something. What the fuck do they want from me? It's freaking the shit out of me to see them congregated there every night, staring up at my window.

She'd just laugh at me for freaking out about this, which would make me laugh, and then I'd forget about the fucking foxes. I miss that.

God. I really fucking miss _her_.

I told her it would pass. What a crock of shit. I'm not sure it will ever pass. At least not for me.

I haven't laughed in ages. Laughing was so easy with her. Now it's hard to even smile. I know Pam has noticed. So have my parishioners. I try to be upbeat, but even my restaurant reviews have been overemotional and ridiculous. Last week I wrote a long-winded, furious rant about a canapé, for fuck's sake!

It's just that it reminded me of catering. Which reminded me of her. And then I got mad at a cherry tomato.

I'm losing my fucking mind, clearly.

Frustrated with the way my life has gone this last year, I scream up at the sky. "What am I supposed to do? Just give me some sort of sign. Tell me what to do."

Nothing happens, of course. I don't really expect it to. God has never been big on words. Especially not lately.

Sighing, I head back into the church. I need to get my head back on straight. Services start soon, and I have no idea what I'm going to talk about.

* * *

The sermon went fine, I think. I wrote something about love. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I probably should find another topic to discuss. Pam gave me a strange look throughout the whole thing. Fuck, I hope she doesn't think I have a thing for her, or something. That would be bloody fucking awkward.

I definitely need to find some other topics to talk about.

I half-heartedly say goodbye to my parishioners as they file out the door. I'm not really registering faces until a woman stops in front of me.

"Hello, Father."

My eyes focus on her face.

Oh, fuck me.

It's her sister. What's her name? Cl-something. Claire. Pretty sure it's Claire. I'm just going to go with Claire.

"Hello, Claire. How've you been?"

She watches me for a second, her eyes squinting. "I'm good. How are you?"

I snort out a laugh. I'm not sure why.

"I'm great."

Her eyes squint even more. "If that's true, I should probably punch you."

I step away from her and bump against a pew, holding up my hands. "Actually, it's not true."

May as well be honest with her. The women in her family can seriously pack a punch. Especially her sister. I witnessed it first hand. God, she was impressive in that restaurant. I think I fell in love with her a little bit, way back then. Beautiful, funny, smart, fierce… and God, that fucking jumpsuit. How was I supposed to fight against a combination like that? She was a walking minefield. Pretty sure she still is, even without having seeing her in so fucking long.

"Where'd you go, Father?" Claire is asking, her head cocked to the side.

"What?"

"You went away there for a second."

Fuck me. Did I? Am _I_ the one doing that thing now?

"There, you did it again!" Claire's voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

I shake my head. "Sorry. Woolgathering, I guess."

She watches me for a second. I almost can pinpoint when she's made her mind up about something. She barely nods and then asks, "Can we talk in private?"

Fuck. I'm suddenly panicking. Something is wrong. It has to be. I sag backward and lean against the pew.

"Is she okay? Has something happened?"

I shouldn't have left her at the bus stop like I did. It wasn't safe that late at night. I should never have kissed her. I should never have had sex with her. It wasn't fair of me. But, God, I loved her. I love her still. What's happened?

"She's okay. I'm sorry for scaring you," Claire answers quickly, reaching out to touch my arm. She looks alarmed.

No wonder. I probably look like a crazy person. I _feel_ like a fucking crazy person.

I motion to the hallway behind her. "Let's go to my office."

I follow her and shut the door as she sits at the table, watching me solemnly. I'm not sure what to do. I glance at the closet longingly. I could really use a G&T, but I don't think Claire will appreciate it nearly as much as her sister.

Fuck, I miss drinking with her.

"What's going on?" My voice sounds rusty.

"First off, do you still love my sister?"

I swallow hard, then nod. "I do."

"I thought so. That was quite the sermon. Are they always like that?"

I laugh, the sound hollower than it should be. "Lately, yes. Not much else on my mind."

Claire sighs. "You need to go see her."

I shake my head. "I can't."

She stares at me, her eyes condemning me. "Father, go see her. Trust me on this."

There's something urgent in her tone, so I grab a chair and sit down.

"What's going on?"

She shakes her head. "It's not my story and she'll kill me if she finds out I came to see you. I just—" She sighs again. "I just don't like seeing her like this. It's not good for her. Especially now that…." Her voice trails off.

I frown. There's something loaded in that unfinished statement. "Now that what?"

Claire smiles sadly. "Go see her, Father. You owe her that." She stands and watches me for a second, gesturing to the room. "You look like hell. Are you sure all this priesty stuff is really what you want?"

"I'm not sure of anything, anymore."

"Then go see her. You need to. If not for her sake, than for yours. Maybe if you do, you'll finally figure your shit out and stop giving such terrifying sermons."

"Why do you care what happens to me? Especially after what I did to your sister."

"I don't know. Your insane speech at my dad's wedding made me do something I'd been too scared to do, and I'm much happier for it. I owe you the same. Go see her. Don't make me hurt you." She leaves my office, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She's a bit terrifying, that one.

I stand up and go to the closet to pull out a G&T. After I finish drinking, I stare at my desk drawer, my heart pounding. Opening it, I stare down at the letter I wrote, such a long time ago.

Should I send it?

No. Not yet.

I need to see her first.

Fuck, I've always needed to see her.

* * *

I'm sitting in the church, staring at the alter, and take a sip of whiskey. Claire left hours ago, and I can't bear to go to my room and fall asleep alone. Not tonight. Not now that memories of her are wreaking havoc on my brain, smashing my resolve to pieces.

I'm playing the same song I blasted in my office _that_ night. The night we nearly—well, I've never looked at my confessional quite the same way. Hearing this song again is just as bad as thinking of our kiss. All it does is make me remember how good everything was with her, and realize how bad it's been since I told her to stay away.

She's always in my brain, but seeing her sister made it a million fucking times worse. I want to see her. I want to hold her. I want to cry. I miss her so fucking much and now I'm worried about her too. Claire seemed so adamant that I see her. I'm terrified about why that might be.

There's a noise behind me and I whirl around.

Is it a fucking fox? How'd they get in here?

Pam is standing there, watching me.

"Are you okay, Father?"

"Yes. Sorry if I'm making too much noise." I jump up and turn off the stereo. "Just doing a bit of thinking."

She walks up the aisle and sits on the pew where I'd been sitting. She pats the wood next to her. "Have a seat, Father. We need to talk."

"We do?" I'm suddenly wary. I really hope Pam hasn't thought my heartbroken sermons on love are about her. Jesus Christ, I'm always making a mess of things, aren't I?

"We definitely do," she states solemnly.

I cautiously sit next to her, putting a good bit of space between us. "What's troubling you, Pam?"

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a medal, handing it to me. "I thought you might need this."

I look down. "Saint Jude? What's this for?" I rub the medal absent-mindedly and glance up at her. She's staring at me with sad, knowing eyes.

"He's the patron saint of desperate cases."

"And lost causes," I murmur, tears pricking at my eyes. God, I'm a fucking mess right now.

"Nothing's a lost cause, Father." She sighs and looks up at the alter, where my glass of whiskey sits. "You've been a great priest here. Exactly what the parish needed. At least at first."

"At _first_?" Even though she's not wrong, I'm a little offended.

"Back when your heart was in it."

"My heart is still in it," I lie.

She laughs. "No it's not, Father. I'm not blind." She stares at the medal in my hand. "Do you love her?"

I jump a little. "What?"

"The woman. The pretty one with the dark hair. She was always with you and you were happier than I'd ever seen you. Then, suddenly, she wasn't around anymore and you turned into a moody, maudlin, mess of a man."

"Nice alliteration, Pam. I might have to use that for a sermon."

She laughs sadly. "That's another thing. Your sermons are distressing, Father. You're bringing us all down. Just because your heart is broken, it doesn't mean you should make the rest of us suffer through it with you every Sunday."

"You think my heart is broken?"

"I know it is. So, I'll ask you again, and I expect the truth from a man of the cloth. Do you love her?"

I glance over at the confessional and all those memories wash over me again. "Yes."

Pam nods. "I thought so. You walked away from her for this?" She gestures around us.

"Of course. I can't be in a relationship. You know that."

"You also can't be a priest and love a woman more than God."

"I don't love her more than God."

"Don't you? Could have fooled me." Pam's tone isn't accusatory, just bemused.

"Can't I love them equally?" It's a question for the ether as much as it is for Pam.

"I don't think so. At any rate, it doesn't appear to be working out so well for you."

I laugh. "Well, _that's_ the truth."

"Father, you're an excellent priest. We've loved having you here. But, trust me when I say that none of us want to see you so miserable. We're all really worried about you."

"Oh, God. Everyone knows about her?" I'm starting to panic.

"No, of course not. The parish is just worried that something is wrong. They don't know it's to do with a woman. I just figured it out because I live here. I knew when she visited. I saw how happy she made you. You couldn't take your eyes off her when she was in a room. I know what a man in love looks like, and you, Father, had it real bad."

I snort in surprise. "I did. I'm afraid I still do."

Pam nods. "I can see that." She points to the medal in my hand. "Why don't you pray to Saint Jude and see if you can sort out what you should do. Maybe he'll send a sign."

I sigh and stare down at the medal. "God, I hope so. I've been waiting forever for one."

"Well, whatever, you decide, Father. I'll support you."

Surprised, I look up. "Thank you, Pam. You're a hell of a lot more understanding than I expect anyone else in the parish will be."

She shrugs. "You're a good man, Father. I want you to be happy. I don't like seeing you so sad. If this life isn't enough for you anymore, there's no shame in that. Choose happy. God knows life is too short. He'll understand."

"Do you think so?" I ask, the tears starting to run freely down my face now.

"Of course. He's not the problem, though. The church might have an issue with it."

"I know. I've thought about this for a year, believe me. I don't know what to do."

Pam reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Choose happy, Father. Whichever path that is, choose it, embrace it, make peace with it, and live your life."

I nod and smooth my thumb over the medal. "Thank you, Pam."

She stands. "I'm going to bed. Please be quiet when you come in. You know how I hate noises late at night."

I laugh and wipe my eyes. "Oh, I know. I'll stay here just a bit longer."

After Pam leaves, I make my way to my office and stare at the drawer. Taking a deep breath, I pull out the letter and stuff it in my pocket. I need to go to the store. I'm out of G&T, and I can decide whether or not to mail this fucking thing on the way there.

* * *

It's Wednesday, a few weeks later. I've finally gotten up enough courage to go see her, and I figure she's got to be at Hillary's. I wonder if Chatty Wednesday is still a thing? Either way, seeing her in a public venue is probably the best bet after quitting her cold turkey for over a year. Safer that way. Less chance I'll lead out by kissing her senseless.

The café is busy, as usual, with the Chatty Wednesday sign in the window. I take a deep breath and push open the door.

She's not at the counter. Instead, it's some strange woman I've never seen before.

"Hello!" she chirps. "You're new here. Have a seat anywhere."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I'm actually here to see the owner. Is she in?"

She frowns. "I'm the owner."

My stomach sinks. "You are? Since when?"

"About six months now. Are you looking for the previous owner?"

I nod, feeling out of sorts and upset as I stare around the café. All the guinea pig stuff is still up, but the cage is gone from the corner of the room.

"Where's Hillary?"

The woman laughs. "Oh, she took her with when she sold the café to me. She said that was non-negotiable. I've got Stephanie at my place, though."

"Stephanie?"

"Yes, the hamster. Stephanie."

I'm so confused. "I—uh—I never met Stephanie."

The woman nods. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not sure how to get ahold of her."

"Do you know why she sold this place to you?"

The woman shakes her head. "Not really. She just said she needed to focus on things that didn't make her so sad. I guess this place had some bleak history for her. It's been a blessing for me."

"Well, I'm glad for that. It's a great place. Thanks for your time. I really should be going."

I leave the café and stare down the street. This means I'll have to go to her flat. That's a much scarier option. Maybe even more than running across a fucking fox.

I stare up at the sky. "If this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny."

He doesn't answer.

As usual.

* * *

I wait until nightfall. I don't know why. Maybe I'm hoping she'll be out. She's got to have moved on from me by now. Someone like her—well, there's no way she's been alone all this time. Maybe there's a man in there with her right now. Maybe she's got a live-in boyfriend, I don't know. Anything is possible.

The thought of that nearly buckles my knees. I have to grab onto the doorframe and suck in a steadying breath before I knock. I wait a few minutes, but no one answers. There's no sound from inside.

I guess that's my sign.

Sighing, I turn and start to walk away when the door opens behind me.

I whirl around and she's standing there in a housecoat, looking beautiful with messy hair and no makeup. Her eyes go enormous when she sees me and she quickly glances behind her.

My stomach sinks. She's definitely got someone in the flat.

"Sorry. You're probably busy. I'll just go and let you get back to… whomever."

"Sorry?" she asks, her voice quiet. "What?"

"I assume you've got a man in there? Your boyfriend?" My voice sounds bitter. I have no right to be. I left her, not the other way around.

She snorts. "There's no man, Father. Not since—well, not since you."

"What? How is _that_ fucking possible?"

She smiles ruefully. "How is it not? You've basically ruined me for other men." She runs her hand through her hair and scrubs her face. When she looks at me again, her eyes skewer me with accusation. "It hasn't passed, you know. You said it would, but it hasn't."

I take a deep breath. "Well, it hasn't for me, either."

She watches me, her dark eyes inscrutable. "You probably should come in, then."

Stepping back, she lets me walk past her and shuts the door behind me.

"Where's your dress?" she teases, pointing to my jeans and sweater. "At the very least, where's the collar? You're running around at night looking like a regular guy. Dangerous."

"There's a story," I murmur. "Do you have a drink?"

She looks embarrassed. "One sec." She disappears and returns with a couple cans of G&T.

I laugh, the terror and nerves inside me starting to dissipate. Being with her is so fucking easy, even after all this time.

"You've got my drink at the ready?" I tease.

She blushes and shrugs. "Sadly, it's turned into _my_ drink, too. Although, I'm not drinking near as much as I used to."

"I wish I could say the same. I've been a bit of a mess since that night at the bus stop."

"So have I," she admits.

"Why'd you sell the café? I went by, but you weren't there anymore."

"Too many memories. I needed to put them behind me. They weren't healthy."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She watches me. "Maybe someday. Do you plan on sticking around, Father? Or are you just here to remind me how much I love you, only to disappear again?"

"Your sister came to see me at the church," I say, avoiding her question.

She looks alarmed, then terrified. "What? When? What did she tell you?"

"A few weeks ago. She didn't tell me anything, just suggested I come see you. To be honest, it scared the shit out of me. I thought something bad had happened."

"Did you? How did that make you feel?"

"Awful. Can I sit?"

She nods and I sink onto her couch. She sits down opposite me, her expression expectant. "So, tell me why you're here, Father."

"I love you," I blurt out. May as well lead with that. It's the truth, after all. "I still do. I love you so fucking much it's made me a basket case in my everyday life and in my duties. I've been no good to anyone. Pam even lectured me and gave me this." I pull out a chain from under my sweater, where the medal of Saint Jude rests. "He's the patron saint of—"

"Lost causes," she finishes, her eyes tearing up.

I shake my head. "No, not only that. Also, desperate cases. I've been a hell of a desperate case without you."

"And I'm a lost cause, apparently."

"You're not a lost cause," I argue. "You've never been a lost cause. You've been _everything_. I've just been too stubborn and scared to do anything about it."

She wipes away a tear rolling down her cheek and stares at her hand, her expression troubled. "And now?"

"And now I'm still scared—I'm fucking terrified, actually—but I'm here, begging you to forgive me and give us another chance."

She stares at me, her eyes enormous. "Well, this is unexpected."

I laugh. "I imagine so. Up until the last month it would have been pretty unexpected for me, too."

"What's happened since last month? Besides Claire coming to see you."

"Oh, a lot."

"That's intriguing."

I grin, finally feeling something other than misery start to grow inside my heart. "What about you? What's been going on in your life?"

"Oh, a _lot_."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?"

She frowns. "Oh, I really don't think so."

"Well, fuck you then," I say, grinning.

She laughs, the sound loud in her small flat. "Fuck, I missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much, you have no idea."

She stares at me. "Why are you here, Father? What's the purpose of this house call? I can't lose you again, I won't be able to bear it. So if you're here to just apologize and ask me to share you with God—I don't—I _can't_ fucking deal with that. I don't want to sneak around and always be worried you'll walk away from me and choose God again. That will destroy me, even more than it already has. I've lost enough. I can't keep losing you."

I get off the couch and kneel in front of her, taking her face in my hands. "I never wanted to destroy you, but I _did_ destroy myself. Everything I worked for and studied for—everything I dreamed of being—it all went to shit that night in the restaurant with your insane family. You overrode everything with your red lips and your black jumpsuit. I've been crazy about you ever since."

She opens her mouth to speak, but I lean forward. I can't _not_ touch her. It's been too long and I need it more than I need to breathe. The first tentative touch of my lips against hers nearly ruins me. The second she leans forward and kisses me back, there's only her. There's only ever been her.

After a while, I pull back and glance up at the ceiling. "Sorry," I whisper to the heavens, trying to catch my breath, still holding her face in my hands.

She half-laughs, half-sniffles, pulling away from me. "I don't want to get in the way of your life, Father. God knows I love you, but I can't be the reason you leave your life behind. I _want_ to be, but you'll just hate me in the long run if we do this."

I shake my head and start to explain everything to her, but there's a sound from the back of the flat. A quiet noise. Like someone waking up.

I sit back on my heels, hurt and despair rushing through me. "Who's here?"

She frowns. "It's _definitely_ not what you think. Fuck. Stay here. There's someone you need to meet. I wasn't ready for this. God damn it."

"Ready for what? If there's someone else, I'll understand. I left you alone for a year. I didn't expect you to wait for me to maybe pull my head out of my arse."

"There's no one else. At least not romantically. Stay here," she orders again. "I'll be right back."

I scoot back and sit on the couch as she leaves the room. My mind is a mess and I can't focus on anything. I don't want to meet some guy, romantic interest or not. I don't want to think about her sleeping with anyone else. All I can think of right now is how fucking good it felt to kiss her again. God, I've really made a mess of things. Why'd I wait so fucking long to come to my senses?

I hear a noise behind me and close my eyes briefly, sucking in a steadying breath.

Here goes nothing.

I stand and turn around to find her in the doorway leading to the bedrooms. She's cradling a small baby against her shoulder and staring at me with a worried expression.

"Surprise!" Her sunny voice is at odds with the terror in her eyes.

"What the fuck?" I stagger back against the couch. "What _is_ that?"

She smiles shakily. "I believe some people call it a baby."

"I know _what_ it is. How is it here? How do you have a baby?"

"Well, you haven't seen me in a year, and these things usually only take nine months, so as far as logistics go, I think it's perfectly reasonable."

"How—" I shake my head. "How old is it?"

"He. It's a he. And he's four months."

I do the math in my head and my mouth drops open. There's no air in my lungs. "That means that you… well, that he was conceived a little over a year ago?"

She nods, her eyes tearing up.

"Who's the father?" I whisper.

"I think you know the answer to that. There's been no one since that night, and we weren't exactly careful, were we?"

I stare at her—at _them_—but I can't speak.

"Do you want to hold him?"

"I can't talk to babies," I sputter.

She laughs. "Good thing he's not so great about carrying on a conversation. Though with parents like us, I think that's probably coming soon." She walks toward me. "You should hold him."

I nod. I'm scared shitless, but of course I need to hold him.

She hands him to me and I cradle him with shaky arms. Staring down at his small face, I try to comprehend what I'm looking at. Dark, solemn eyes stare back at me, taking me in. I'm pretty sure my heart stopped when I saw her standing in the doorway holding him, but now it tentatively starts back up, beating slow and sure.

"Holy shit. I was not expecting this."

She laughs softly, the sound unsure. "Now you probably wish it _was_ another guy back there."

I glance up at her, glaring. "Never." Then I laugh, wonder overtaking me as I look down and study him again.

"What's his name?"

"This is where it might get a bit weird, considering Pam's gift."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"His official name is Jude."

I stare at her in shock. "What the fuck? Really?"

Talk about getting a fucking sign. If ever I questioned whether or not I did the right thing, this proves I did. Without a shadow of a fucking doubt. Oh my God.

She shakes her head and blushes. "I did some research on Catholicism once I found out I was—well, once I knew he was coming. It only seemed right. I wanted him to have a name that included you somehow. I thought the patron saint of lost causes was fitting for our situation."

"Desperate cases," I correct her.

She shrugs. "I was both things." She smiles down at the baby—my _son_…holy shit—and brushes a lock of dark hair off his forehead.

"What do you mean by official name?" I ask.

"His name is Jude, but I call him Boo most of the time."

"After your friend?"

She stares up at me. "What do you know of Boo?"

"Nothing, really. Your step-mom mentioned her at the wedding. I know she died."

Her eyes tear up. "She did."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jude stirs in my arms and whimpers. I move him until his head is resting against my shoulder. He stops fussing right away.

She watches us, her heart in her eyes. "God, that's a sight." She brushes away a tear and sits next to me. "I'll tell you about Boo another time. We need to talk about this."

"We do," I agree, patting Jude's back. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

She blushes again. "I didn't want to ruin your life."

"Why the fuck did you think it would ruin my life?"

"You're a _priest_," she spits out. "If I told you, your life would be fucked more than it already was by just falling in love with me."

"I wouldn't have left you if I'd known."

She nods. "I know. I didn't know I was pregnant then, anyway. When I found out, I certainly wasn't going to come tell you. I didn't want you to feel obligated to choose me. You'd wind up hating me—hating _us_—and I couldn't bear that."

"I could never hate you. Ever."

She frowns. "You say that now, but I mean it. I don't expect you to give up your life for us. I chose to keep him. I couldn't even entertain the thought of not keeping him. He is part of _you_. By keeping him, I'll always have a part of you with me, and it's almost been enough. It was a rough start, but we're doing okay now."

"You're not doing this on your own anymore. If you think I'm walking away from either of you now, you're crazy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I want to make plans with you."

Her mouth opens and she blinks away a tear. "And what plans are those, Father?"

"First off, you probably shouldn't call me that anymore."

Her eyes sharpen. "Why?"

"I turned in my resignation a month ago."

"What? Why?"

"It was just time for me to move on."

"If this has to do with Claire coming to see you—"

I shake my head. "I wrote the resignation letter the morning of your dad's wedding."

"What?" Her voice is incredulous.

"I didn't mail it until last month. Now I wish I'd mailed it right after the wedding, believe me. I just needed to sort everything out in my head. It took me awhile to come to the right decision."

"What decision is that?"

"It's you. It's always been you and I was a fucking idiot before. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Her smile is huge as tears roll down her face. "Fuck, I've wanted to hear that for such a long time."

"I've wanted to say it for just as long."

"Are you sure you're not going to miss it, being called Father by lots of people?"

"I'll be okay with only one person calling me that," I murmur, burying my face against Jude's head. He smells like baby powder and sunshine. I don't know if I'll ever get enough of that smell. He's a fucking miracle.

She shakes her head and grins. "Two more can be arranged, remember?"

I laugh and pull her in next to me, her head resting on my other shoulder. The three of us cuddle on the couch until I'm filled with more calm than I've ever felt before. Not even when I was a priest.

If a fox showed up right now, even he couldn't ruin this kind of peace.

It feels like absolution.

Finally.


End file.
